Dark Places
A Red River Mystery
Reavis Z. Wortham
www.ReavisZWortham.com
Poisoned Pen Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by Reavis Z. Wortham
First E-book Edition 2015
ISBN: 9781464204258 ebook
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
The historical characters and events portrayed in this book are inventions of the author or used fictitiously.
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Contents
Dark Places
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Navajo Prayer of Healing
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-one
Chapter Seventy-two
Chapter Seventy-three
Chapter Seventy-four
Chapter Seventy-five
Chapter Seventy-six
Chapter Seventy-seven
Chapter Seventy-eight
Chapter Seventy-nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-one
Chapter Eighty-two
Chapter Eighty-three
Chapter Eighty-four
Chapter Eighty-five
Chapter Eighty-six
Chapter Eighty-seven
Chapter Eighty-eight
Chapter Eighty-nine
Chapter Ninety
Chapter Ninety-one
Chapter Ninety-two
Chapter Ninety-three
Chapter Ninety-four
Chapter Ninety-five
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to my maternal grandparents,
Joe and Esther (Estelle Gentry) Armstrong,
the real Ned and Miss Becky Parker.
“Daddy Joe” and “Mama Esther” never realized
the impact they would have on my life.
Acknowledgments
Some folks say my second novel in the Red River series, Burrows, was dark. One review said it was Stephen King meets Harper Lee. I guess it was dramatically different than The Rock Hole and the books after that. In a sense, Burrows explored a darkness inside of me that manifested itself in nightmares. Once I wrote that book, the monthly nightmares of tunnels, burrows, and claustrophobic underground crawlspaces ended. I’m sure a psychiatrist would suggest it was a catharsis or cleansing through the written word, and maybe that’s what happened. Who knows?
In this book, Dark Places, I felt the need to explore the darkness that surrounds us all. Most of us in this country are fortunate to live with a minimum of emotional trauma, though it’s always an unfortunate part of life. But there is darkness all around us, even though we might not see it. Have you ever thought that you’ve probably been within reach of a murderer at some point in your life, or at the very least, passed one on the highway, on the street, or in a shopping mall? If you drive much, I know you’ve been close to a drunken driver who may someday cause someone’s serious injury or death, if they haven’t already. People are always out there who would love to hurt you for the sheer joy of it, or to steal your money, either at gunpoint, or by cyber theft. Have you ever wondered what kind of darkness your friends, and even family members, hold inside themselves? I’ve explored this world through my characters, but they speak to us with the assistance of many, and not just the fingertips that types these words.
As in the past, many people have supported my work by reading early manuscripts, offering suggestions, and spreading the word about my novels. I won’t try to list the dozens of people who fit into the above categories, but a few have to appear, because they are as much a part of this new career as I am.
Thanks to my mentor John Gilstrap; Craig Johnson; Sandra Brannan; Jeffery Deaver; Joe Lansdale (for showing me the road many, many years ago); Ronda Wise (for her ongoing medical advice); Sharon Reynolds and Mike Miller (for reading those first manuscripts); my English teacher daughter Chelsea Wortham Hamilton (for reading and offering academic insights that I never considered); my agent Anne Hawkins (who still believes in me); Poisoned Pen Press editors Annette Rogers (who always brings out more even when I think I’m finished); and Barbara Peters (who suggested necessary improvements that this manuscript desperately needed); and of course, the love of my life, my wife Shana, (who is always at my side). You all offer more faith than I deserve.
And thanks to you, the readers out there who support my work. It is humbling.
Following, is the complete Navajo Prayer of Healing that Betty spoke to Ned here in Dark Places. She used part, but not all of it in the novel, and it is too beautiful to present only small bits.
Navajo Prayer of Healing
In the story made of dawn.
On the trail of dawn.
O, Talking God.
His feet, my feet, restore.
His limbs, my limbs, restore.
His body, my body, restore.
His mind, my mind, restore.
His voice, my voice, restore.
His plumes, my plumes, restore.
With beauty before
him, with beauty before me.
With beauty behind him, with beauty behind me.
With beauty above him, with beauty above me.
With beauty below him, with beauty below me.
With beauty around him, with beauty around me.
With pollen beautiful in his voice, with pollen
beautiful in my voice.
It is finished in beauty. It is finished in beauty.
In the house of every light.
From the story
made of evening light.
On the trail of evening light.
Chapter One
The oil road stretching into the darkness made me feel queasy, giving me a sense that I’d been there before. Some folks call it déjà vu, but in Lamar County, Texas, we call it swimmy-headed.
The dull, sick feeling came from dreams of a flat, empty highway disappearing into a dark fog. The problem was my dreams have a bad habit of coming true.
My grandmother, Miss Becky, says it’s a Poisoned Gift, and she’s right. I’m not the only one who has it. My Uncle Cody sometimes dreams of what’s to come, and not too long ago, I found out my Grandpa Ned once had a vision that no one ever talks about.
That’s another reason I’s half-sick. We were close to that spooky old Ordway Place. I was as afraid of that house as I was of a bear, and it scared the peewaddlin’ out of me to even ride past in the truck. I’d seen ghosts coming down the staircase when Pepper lived there, and then only a few months ago, it was a slaughterhouse when Grandpa, Uncle Cody, and Mr. John Washington had a bloody shootout with a bunch of Las Vegas gangsters.
And here we were within spittin’ distance of it again.
It hadn’t been dark long, and we were shining flashlights every which-a-way, up in trees, and on each other. I bet from a distance that night, the six of us kids looked like a search party coming down the road.
Pepper kept her light pointed at her feet in case there was a snake on the still-warm road. Lots of folks who don’t know us think we’re twins. They can tell right quick though, after they’ve been around us for a while, that we’re nothing alike.
Pepper loved adventure, but I’d rather have been home with a book. Instead, I was out cattin’ around with a bunch of fartknockers to keep her out of trouble.
The head fartknocker was Cale Westlake. He gave me that look that he thought was cool, but it only made me know for sure I still didn’t like him worth a flip. He’d taken to keeping his long hair out of his eyes with a silly strip of leather, like an Indian.
I usually didn’t want to have no part of Cale and his gang of jerks, but Pepper’d been acting like she didn’t have good sense because she started liking him again. He found out right quick that Pepper wasn’t going to sneak out of her daddy’s house and go adventuring with him that Friday night without me.
The Toadies rolled their eyes and held flashlights under their chins, making spooky faces. I was already bored with that. “Let’s go over to Mr. Sims’ pool.”
Cale shined his light in my face for pure-dee meanness, blinding me. When I closed my eyes, he grabbed me in a headlock. I tried to push away, but he squeezed tighter. “Holler calf rope.”
“No!”
He twisted his arm, grinding my head. “Holler calf rope!”
I tried to play possum, but it hurt too bad. “Okay! Calf rope!”
He turned loose. “You don’t get to talk out here, Mouse. Remember that. You’re just along for the ride, so shut up.” He’d taken to calling me that to get my goat. “Frankie here says ol’ Doc Daingerfield bought the Ordway house and has a monkey chained to that big pear tree out back. That’s where we’re going.”
I felt sick at my stomach again as I rubbed my tingling ears.
Frankie felt pretty important to have information we didn’t know. “Daddy said Doc Daingerfield has more money than he has sense to sink all that cash in putting this house back into shape.”
Cale worked the beam of his flashlight over Pepper while Frankie talked, like he was painting her with a brush. The yellow light went up from her belt, past the fringe vest and big-sleeved shirt, and then stopped on her chest. I don’t think he realized he was a-doin’ it, because when he glanced over and saw me watching, he shined it back on Frankie. “I don’t give a shit about that. Tell them about the monkey.”
“Oh.” Frankie stopped to regain his thought. “Uh, well, him and Daddy were talking about Daingerfield retiring from his vet’nary practice and moving here from town. That’s when I saw the monkey climb out of the tree and pick up something off the ground. Then he shinnied back up there quick as you please. They got a harness on ’im and a long dog chain, so he won’t go nowhere.”
Pepper stuffed her fingers in the pocket of her jeans. “So what difference does it make?”
“We’re gonna steal that monkey.”
To tell the truth, the idea of a monkey was intriguing. “What are you gonna do with a stole monkey?”
My question threw Cale off. “Well…”
The idea popped out of my mouth before I realized it. “Hey, how about letting it loose in the Baptist church on Sunday morning?”
For the first time since I’d come to live in Center Springs a little over three years earlier, the kids looked at me with some respect. Even Pepper was shocked. “Shit! That’s brilliant, but why the Baptist church?”
“Because I don’t want to scare Miss Becky at the Assembly of God, and yours is the biggest one we have, next to the Presbyterians, so there’ll be more people.”
“That’s it, then.” Cale waved his hand, as if he was blessing the idea. His daddy was the Baptist preacher, and he didn’t have much use for any of the other churches. He led off, with the rest of us lined up like baby ducks. “Lights out.”
We used the silvery light of the three-quarter moon to cross the pasture toward the road. Bringing up the rear, Pepper whispered in my ear. “It’s a good idea for these dumbasses, but what’n hell are you doing?”
I realized that I was tired of being by myself all the time with only Pepper to hang out with, and lately, she was being a horses’ ass about anything and everything if it didn’t have to do with them hippies and California.
“Hey, it sounded like a good idea to me.”
“Well, it ain’t smart.”
Her sudden turnabout had me off balance. I never did understand how her mind worked. “None of this is smart, but we’re out here ’cause you been making goo-goo eyes at that fool up there in the lead.”
“They’re not goo-goo eyes. He’s not so bad to hang out with now that he’s let his hair grow out, and besides, he hates Center Springs as much as I do. I’m scared to death I’ll never get anywhere other’n where I’m from.”
She’d been complaining about our community for quite a while, mostly after she started listening to that new kind of rock ’n’ roll music and watching them hippie kids talk about peace and love and the new generation.
“You’re only going to get in trouble hanging around with him.” I sounded like Grandpa.
A ball of fear caught up with me again when that big ol’ spooky house full of bloody murder and ghosts came into view. It rose above the trees like a nightmare and it took everything I had to get moving. Stomach clenched like a condemned man walking to the gallows, and shivering like a Chihuahua, I crossed the road.
We stopped beside the tired old ga
rage. I’d already spotted the chain wrapped around the pear tree. Pepper leaned around me and then ducked back against the peeling boards. Her whisper wasn’t much more quiet than her everyday voice. “Shit! That chain’s on there with a bolt. We don’t have any tools with us.”
“No problem.” Cale unfolded a sharp pocketknife. “Frankie says Cheeta there is wearing a harness. Rex, we’ll cut it off and use your belt as a collar until we find some rope.”
“It won’t fit around a monkey’s neck, it’ll be too big.”
“We’ll poke another hole in it.”
“Nope, it’s new and Mama will kill me if she found out.”
Cale glared like Rex owed him money. “All right, then. We can wrap it around his chest a couple of times and pull it tight like a girth.”
I wanted to tell him that I doubted the monkey would sit still while strangers hacked at his harness with a pocketknife and then strapped him tight with a belt, but I decided not to open my mouth.
Goosebumps rose as I snuck up to that gnarly pear tree. The chain disappeared into the darkness. I shuddered, staring upward, every muscle in my body twitching like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket.
Cale and the others strolled right up to it like they were supposed to be there. Frankie grabbed the chain and gave it a tug. He must have felt that since he’d been the first one to see the monkey, he knew all about them.
He gave it a second yank, harder, like pulling on a vine. I guess he thought the monkey might just fall out, or come down like a puppy. “It’s tight up there. You think it’s wrapped around a limb or something?”
Cale studied on it like he was doing an arithmetic problem, but I knew his grades and there wasn’t any hope he could figure it out. “Swing on it and see.”
Before Rex could bear down on the chain, I aimed my light up in the tree and the whole world went to pieces. Two dogs came roaring at us from under the porch. I guess they were sound asleep and woke up when we started yammering at one another. We were lucky they were chained to the porch or I believe they’d have eaten us alive. Instead of trying to bite us, they got tangled up and went to fighting.
I wanted to scream, but nothing worked right. Pepper grabbed my arm and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. That’s when I thought I was gonna die.
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